


It's Over, Isn't It?

by CreepyLittleLullaby



Series: Langst (Voltron Legendary Defender) [10]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abandonment, Altean Lance (Voltron), Child Neglect, Corruption, Homesick Lance (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Whump, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Langst, Magic, Murder, Non-Consensual Body Modification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreepyLittleLullaby/pseuds/CreepyLittleLullaby
Summary: Lance is just a boy, an Altean boy who loves his mother fiercely. Now, as he's brushed aside and she changes for the worst. What is he supposed to do? He can't move on... he loves her. Still loves her. But, it's over isn't it?Why can't he move on?Langst songfic featuring an Altean Lance! Inspired by the song 'It's Over Isn't It?'Also on my tumblr 'iamtheyaoiqueen'





	It's Over, Isn't It?

**_I was fine, with the men_ **

**_Who would come into her life now and again_ **

He watched with calm eyes as Zarkon walked out of his mother’s room once again, adjusting his military outfit with hearts in his eyes. Lance blinked with his owlish eyes and looked away, the orange marks on his cheeks and his arms flaring and glowing a little more brightly before Lance calmed the flare of magic with deep breathes. Clenching his small childish fists as if the pressure and slight pain of the tight grip would help. Lance bit his lip and ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach.

            He always knew his mother was beautiful, that she’d find a man other than his father. He was fine with it too. She deserved to have someone, but there was something that itched at Lance, like a bad itch that you couldn’t figure out where it was or why. Something bothered him about Zarkon. Something in his soul tugged at Lance’s magic, the quintessence manipulation of water. An element that often offer shields and protection, as well as projected a dangerous drowning wave or shots of ice that could pierce the hardest shield and leave nothing behind.

Lance pushed the feeling back as his mother came out of her room, bun in perfect place, a smile directed right at him as she approached where he sat, playing with his sketchbook and the magic in his hands. Looking up and letting his mother grab him and hoist him onto her hip. Their beloved family cat traipsing at the heels of the mother and son. The brown haired Altean closed his orange-gold eyes relaxed.

Trust, he trusted her. He loved her. So he’d let her be happy and not say a word.

After all, he knew that she would always be his no matter what.

And that’s all the mattered, isn’t it?

**_I was fine, because I knew;_ **

**_that it didn’t really matter until you_ **

Lance was never a jealous person per say. However, when his mother got pregnant with another child, Zarkon’s child, His new step-father's child. Lance could not help the sinking feeling in his stomach. The turning of the tides in his body, warning him that everything was going to change, and maybe not for the better. Jealousy and envy flooded his veins like a poison. But Lance fought back against it.

He loved her. He loved his mother. She was his, and he was hers.

And that’s all the mattered isn’t it?

**_I was fine, when you came;_ **

**_And we fought like it was all some silly game_ **

Smiling and laughing, begging to hold his new baby brother. Being met with a motherly smile as he got to hold his baby brother, Lotor, for the first time. Lance decided then that he was going to be a good big brother, lead and show his sibling the way.

The brown haired boy still clung to that thought years later as Lotor waddled from him to his mother with a wide smile and running to his mother. Who grinned at the sight of the toddler, lifting him into her arms and nuzzling his hair like she’d done to Lance once upon a time. Causing that burning feeling to rise up and threaten to eat and chew at his morals and personality again. Chewing as if it were trying to turn him into the monster it was, but he pressed it back again. Smiling with burning eyes as his mother barely blinked at him, preoccupied with Lotor who demanded the all attention his three year old body could muster.

She was happy.

And that’s all that mattered, isn’t it?

**_Over her, who’d she choose;_ **

**_After all those years I never thought I’d lose._ **

Lance watched with misty eyes from a distance as his mother showed his baby brother around the empire, to the lions and the labs, showing him all that would be under his watchful eye one day. He was her pick for filling in her spot. He was her favorite.

It wasn't Lance. Not anymore.

Closing his eyes, memories of when his mother smiled at him like that washed over him. Her proud eyes and bright smile, gentle hands cradling him close, cuddling him. The happiness in her eyes when she looked at him.

Now, she still smiled, still kissed his head, but her eyes were on Lotor the whole time. As if she pictured showing affection to his brother rather than him. His brother basking in the attention with a smug smile. Showing that he would always be the favorite of both their ‘parents’. That he was no one’s favorite. He was no longer the perfect son. He wasn’t the idol big brother now. He wasn’t anything in the eyes of King Alfor. He wasn’t anything to anyone.

Not even his own father had wanted him. He left Lance.

But, she was happy, smiling with a new husband and a better son. One that didn’t remind her of what she’d lost. Grinning as she showed him the beautiful sights that she and Lance had once shared. They were probably still beautiful to her, but now as Lance walked to thise same sights, alone, going to draw them with his sketchbook. They only looked dull and dead.

Was this life without her?

Oh well, she was in love. She was happy.

Lance wasn’t happy, but the embrace of loneliness and depression kept him company.

She was happy.

And that’s all that mattered, isn’t it?

**_It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it?_ **

**_Isn’t it, over?_ **

The memories of family dinners and happiness washed over Lance as he now sat at the age of twelve, In a dim dark hallway of a ship. Dark black and grey with harsh purple lighting, not like the warm and light of his home.

Altea was gone. Dead. His step-father had destroyed it as he watched. Able to help, but doing nothing. As helpless as a child as he watched everything he had ever known and loved get blown to dust and die. Everything he had ever seen.

The dull but familiar sights. His house on the corner.

What did it matter anymore?

**_You won, and she chose you;_ **

**_And she loved you, now she’s gone._ **

Now she was gone. His mother. Replaced with a husk that Lance couldn’t even recognize, he didn’t even know her anymore. Not after what Zarkon had done to keep her alive. Now her hair hung in white shambles, her marks running down her face like blood red tears. It made Lance’s own marks glow in slight pain. Those marks that used to match his were now only a show of her suffering. His heart ached and the storm of the ocean raged in him. She disregarded him. She still favored Lotor and the man who ruined her.

Gone. His mother was truly gone. Not happy. Gone.

He didn’t know how to feel, because now he was truly and completely alone.

It made suffering so much worse.

What did any of this matter anymore?

**_War and Glory,_ **

**_Reinvention,_ **

The war raged on for years, thousands of them. And yet, Lance never grew old. His mother had changed and was gone, but there was some part of her that still held on. He guessed. Why else would he wake up strapped to a metal table so often, Pure quintessence shot up, burning and eating him alive like the jealousy of so long ago. The only difference being this pain was real and his mother listened to him scream with a sick grin and a gleam in her eyes.

Not a flash of the woman she had once been.

The woman he’d loved fiercely.

            Now, was his fear.

            Yet, he still loved her.

 Lance couldn’t talk much, he guessed, he’d changed as well. His marks were dull against his skin, the magic in his veins was heavy, but he refused to use it. He grew quiet and cynical. No longer the one to joke, smile, and be happy. The only way that Lance recognized himself was in old photographs and the sketches he would make of planets before Zarkon and his mother would leave them in ruin.

 

Blood strew over the grounds that Lance would walk, Glory of the Galran empire to every planet. He received the glares of pity, curiousity, or disgust as he’d walk without blinking at the gore. He’d seen to much of it to care. He was the only Altean left that was not a druid. He was the one they blamed. A traitor to the people he loved. Defecting to the people who killed his planet.

They didn’t understand who he was.

They didn’t care.

No one did. Not even himself anymore.

He was a husk now too.

Nothing mattered.

**_Fusion, Freedom_ **

**_Her attention._ **

            Soon, Lance started welcoming the pain of the metal table. His mind twisting the pain to pleasure. After all, when he was being cut open, stabbed and prodded, he had her attention at last. Even as his body convulsed and screamed in pain. When his vision would swim and his marks would flash colors that were not his own to the curiosity and amusement of the witch that had once been his mother.

            Finally, he felt free of the confusion. He knew who he was now. He was her son again.

The pain did not matter.

She was pleased with him.

            And that’s all the mattered, isn’t it?

**_Out in daylight, my potential_ **

**_Bold; Precise. Experimental._ **

He was her experiment now, was that close to be a son? Lance didn’t know anymore, he didn’t recognize anything anymore. The honey gold and orange of his eyes and marks replaced with a glaring red that bled into purples and indigos, turning fully black at times. The gentle waves and tides of the sea in his being turned from the moods of the ocean to a poison filled lake. Burning acidic toxin flooding his vein. Burning away any feeling of guilty of sick turning of his stomach as his magic would shoot down so many locals. Sins splayed out in the plain day light as his magic boldly shoot from his skin. Contrasting his tan skin and scars. Precise edges and lifts to his magic. Shots of quintessence.

Now his magic was not water, it was heavy like liquid metal in his veins. Dark black. Forming harsh edges that cut and stabbed through beauty without hesitation. 

Dark. Dirty. Heavy. Angry. Black. Hatred. 

The magic rejected its new form. Spilling out of control. It wasn’t his magic. This wasn’t him. He knew this. His mind tried to steer him to her, but his heart knew this was not the ocean. He had failed.

Shocking hands and electric currents as an experiment failed. Losing control and killing so many people out of his mind. Up. Down. Left. Right. Who was he? Who was he? Where was Lance? The magic burned. He screamed. It was pain. Who was he? Where was the boy who was Honerva’s son? Where was the Altean boy he once was? Where was the calming ocean that once surrounded his broken soul with comfort?

            What could the ocean do for his heavy dirty soul now?

He was only Haggar’s experiment now.

That’s all he mattered to her.

Even as she forced him to take a human form, hiding his marks, his ears, telling him to gain information. Infiltrate into the planet, and abandoning him on the planet’s surface. No way to call home. He was useless to her, a failed experiment now that his magic was so frazzled with confusion and sick thoughts, tainted and unyielding. Out of control.

He was alone again. No attention. No love.

**_Who am I now in this world without her?_ **

**_Petty and dull, with the nerve to doubt her._ **

Had he ever been meant to report information back to her? Or had this been a set up? Had she just abandoned him? Her useless experiment. A failure that she didn’t think was worthy of her time to even kill. What was he anymore? Who was he?

The thoughts felt sick in his mind. Was this who he was anymore? Without his original mother. 

Petty. Angry. Negative. Cynical. 

With the gall to doubt her, his mother, the one that had been his idol. He was supposed to always love her. He was supposed to never leave her. He was supposed to not be like his father. Now, she was the one who left.

Why him?

Why does it matter?

**_What does it matter? It’s already done._ **

**_Now I’ve got to be there, for her son._ **

That question entered his mind a lot now, as he sat alone on an Earthen beach. The waves lapped at his ankles of his new ‘home’ the earthen family happy to take him in. It had surprised him. That the humans were so warm. So eager to take him in. So loving to a person they had never met.

It made Lance feel sick. He was a shitty excuse for a son. He was worthless. Yet this family. They wanted to call him their son. They wanted to give him their family name, and to show him love. The love that the old version of him, the one that still hid from the poison, craved. Lance felt weak to it. Too weak to fight it, too done.

            Accepting it felt so much better. Sitting in the love of a family. In the ocean tides. Lance was surprised as his eyes finally faded from purple when he experimentally released the lock on his magic. No. His eyes were not the honey gold color anymore. They were blue instead. Like the earth’s ocean, and Lance could feel the sea of his home roaring in his veins once again. Love attacking the sickness in him. The poison bleeding out like blood and killing the evil person within.

Honerva’s son was back. 

Honerva was gone now. Ruined and changed by hatred. No matter what Lance’s old illusions had been. She was gone. Now, he had to be strong for her memory. He had to be there for himself. He had to be the son she loved when she still lived.

He had to be Lance.

Loving. Caring. Child of the sea.

            And that’s what mattered now.

**_It’s over, isn’t it?_ **

**_Why can’t I move on?_ **

Accepting it was easy on earth. But now that he’d left those safe ocean waves. Lance feared. Feared being corrupted by quintessence once more without the earth to ground him. Feared that his family would change their minds about him in his absence. Yet, the other humans aboard the ship always soothed him. Lance, he smiled with Hunk, joked with Pidge, fought with Keith, stood proud for Shiro, and spoke with Coran. Yet, Lance hid from Allura. Hid who he was once he found out they were fighting the people he’d once been a part of. The experiment of. This was both his redemption and his hell. Lance didn’t know what he’d do if he were faced with the choice.

His mother. Or his family.

Why would the universe make him choose?

He was just a boy. Just an Altean boy. He wasn’t anything special.

That’s why the ocean in him stirred in this battle. The feeling of a foreboding doom rushing over him in waves. His magic was restrained, he refused to show or use it with his friends. They could not know. They could not fear him. He vowed to protect the planet that had returned the sea to him. Protect the family that returned him to himself.

But here he was now. She loomed in front of them, and he was the only one even slightly coherent. Standing with a gun to her. Perfect for vengeance. For Shiro. For his team. For his planet. More selfishly.

For abandoning him. For hurting him. For using him.

Yet, He still loved her.

That’s why, he couldn’t pull the trigger. That's why he only stood still frozen in shock as his teammates screamed at him to duck. That's why he only stood still as his magic pierced through him. Ocean waves rolling in anguish. His magic was to protect and to harm whatever threatened him or his loved ones.

But now, the one woman he loved. Was going to kill him.

The ocean could do nothing but grieve.

It was so fast. Her magic shot through him. A hole through his abdomen, and he stumbled. Her magic shot to try and grab Shiro, who was running to Lance’s fallen form. And his magic exploded, reacted immediately. Without permission. Bursting from him with a shot. Stabbing icicles. And she screamed. Falling to the floor with a wail as Lance himself was tackled, too late, to the floor by Shiro. Shiro immediately hovering over him in shock as Lance’s form settled in its natural skin. He felt the tingling of his glowing marks.

Shiro called out to him. Shouted his name, pressed a hand on the wound his magic was already working to clot and restore. Whispering reassurances as the team ran, either to support him, or to get a med pod ready. Allura standing over him, a hand over her mouth as she stared at him in shock. Lance caught a glimpse of himself in Shiro’s visor and stared for a second in shock.

Right there, was Honerva’s son. Honey gold eyes, orange and gold like the sun. Markings and tan skin glowing with pride, magic, potential, and happiness. Lance gave a wobbly grin and his eyes started streaming tears. He recognized himself again, but at what price, the grief of killing his mother? The blood on his hands?

Lance closed his eyes, his happy tears turning into tears of grief as the pain of both his injury and the death of his mother, and the realization that Allura now knew. Orange marking were rare. She knew who he was. She knew what he had done.

But he was not Haggar’s son.

He was Honerva’s son. Haggar killed Honerva. Now he killed Haggar.

It was over. Wasn’t it?

Isn’t it over finally?

Yet, the memories don’t stop. Lance still misses home. Lance still had a new home. Lance was Lance again. He was her son. And she was alive in him again. And yet the pain of a once closed wound was open again with the death of her body ripping open the closure he’d fought so hard for the first time she died of soul.

It hurt, but that didn’t matter.

He was cradled in the arms of his family. Any scorn they could throw at him. He could take with the memory of their warmth. Her warmth. Their rejection and hers was something he’d never accept, but they weren’t rejecting him. They were holding him. Begging for him to hold on.

She rejected him. She didn’t love him. Not like Honerva. Because she wasn’t her.

Why does it still hurt?

**_It’s over, isn’t it?_ **

**_Why can’t I move on?_ **


End file.
